


Shed Our Skin (Allow the Sunshine In)

by Glass_O_Lemonade



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Ben Hargreeves-centric, Drug Addiction, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, Multi, POV Ben Hargreeves, POV Klaus Hargreeves, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2020-04-06 21:38:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glass_O_Lemonade/pseuds/Glass_O_Lemonade
Summary: He walks over to the vase, spies a tiny card still standing upright in the center of the dead bouquet. ‘May these light up your days. Your Sister, Allison.’ It’s not in her handwriting. He wonders when she stopped writing them herself. Klaus sets the small paper aside, atop of the other cards.





	1. Prologue

** Saturday, Feb. 2, 2019 **

Someone opened one of the windows.

It doesn't do much for the room's dismal atmosphere. Flowers from several weeks ago, now shriveled, hang over the sides of a light green, translucent glass vase. Several gnats fly around the display of death. They travel from the vase to the windows and back. They dart past anyone who enters, always in one's line of sight, but never close enough to swat. Cards, once lined up around the room on all available counter space, now lay flat, stacked one on top of another. There's a thin coat of dust accumulating on the windowsills, the counters, and the armrests of the room's two, uncomfortable chairs. The steady hum of machinery fills the otherwise silent space.

It eerily looks exactly the same as the last time he visited.

Someone opened one of the windows, and Klaus swears he smells the faint, lingering scent of a recently smoked cigarette. He's positive there's rules about smoking in a place like this, but at least the nurse or attendant that took a quickie opened a window. His fingers twitch, and his hand moves to his back pocket before he knows what he's doing. He pats back there, lets out a breath through his teeth when his hand comes away empty. He doesn't question whether it's disappointment or relief that he feels. It's only been two months. He knows it takes time, is a continuous uphill battle to get clean, to achieve sobriety and maintain it, but sometimes... sometimes he can't help but wonder whether it'll always be like this. Whether no matter what he does, regardless of how long he's clean, his body will always seek his addictions out.

He leaves the door cracked, hopes it will air the room out some more. He moves to the chair beside the hospital bed and sits. He leans his head forward to hear the other's faint breaths, the only reassurance Klaus has that the other is alive. He shuts his eyes as he leans back into his chair.

"It’s been a while.”

The sound of cars passing by below drifts in from outside. Klaus runs a hand through his unkempt hair, absently twirls a finger in some slightly curling strands. 

“I'm getting clean. Sober, too." Klaus continues. _He’s heard that before._ "Two months so far. The others can't believe it." Klaus doesn't say, _won't_ , despite the fact sometimes it feels like that's the case. "I-," he takes a breath, steadies himself. _I wish Dave was here._  Dave would be holding his hands by now, probably rub them with his thumbs, occasionally whisper encouragements. Dave would even join him in silence, too, but this... this was something Klaus needed to do on his own.

He takes the time to properly gather his thoughts, to muster the courage to continue _._

"I'm sorry.” His chest, uncomfortably heavy since he got into Diego’s car, feels lighter the moment those words leave his lips. The rest becomes slightly easier after that.

“I’m sorry I could- _didn't_ do this years ago. If I'd listened to you back then..." Klaus opens his eyes, stares at the unconscious young man before him. One visit wouldn’t- _couldn’t_ fix a decade of mistakes. Couldn’t fix a lifetime of them either. Klaus licks his lips, looks away. _You’re a coward. Still._  "I should go. Diego's waiting outside." He glances back to the other's resting face. "I'll tell him to get his ass up here sometime soon," he promises.

Klaus scoots his chair back. The shrill sound sends the gnats back into a hurried buzz. He walks over to the vase, spies a tiny card still standing upright in the center of the dead bouquet. _May these light up your days. Your Sister, Allison._  It’s not in her handwriting. He wonders when she stopped writing them herself. Klaus sets the small paper aside, atop of the other cards. He yanks out the flowers and shoves them to the bottom of the nearby small, black trashcan. He grabs the vase, takes it to the open window, and pours out the weeks old water. The thought to toss the vase to its shattering demise crosses his mind, but Klaus resists the urge. Instead, he returns it to its spot on the counter.

Klaus keeps the window open.

He pulls open the door and exits. He gently shuts it close behind him. Klaus leaves his brother's room and heads towards the elevators.


	2. Wired Shut

_Sir Reginald Hargreeves, at the age of forty-three, successfully adopts seven babies in the span of three weeks. Most media outlets applaud the billionaire for opening his home, for self-electing to take on the role of father to seven, homeless, and unwanted infants. A few wonder why the sudden life change, but not one questions his fit as a single parent._

_Dr. Phinneus Pogo, simply Pogo to practically all, moves into the mansion a month before Sir Hargreeves acquires the seven babies. Colleagues from university, Dr. Pogo accepts Sir Hargreeves’ offer to move in without hesitation. There he continues his own research, in addition to assisting Hargreeves with his. Later, when the children are of school age, Dr. Pogo oversees and leads their education._

_Upon returning home, Sir Hargreeves places each child in their own bedroom and hires seven nannies. Each attends to one of the infants. After the first year, he dwindles his staff to three caregivers. In the summer of 1993, Sir Hargreeves begins searching for a long term care solution for his progeny. He finds Grace. In the spring of 1994, they wed in word only, a legally binding certificate the only proof of their marriage. It lies in a drawer in Sir Hargreeves’ office atop their prenuptial agreement._

_In the fall of 1994, Grace renames the children. She claims numbers are too clinical and potentially disruptive to an ideal upbringing. Sir Hargreeves dismisses her concerns, orders her away to conduct her duties and him, his. However, he doesn't forbid the act. In a week's time, Grace bestows upon each child a "more appropriate" identifier. She and Dr. Pogo fall into using the children’s new names immediately. Sir Hargreeves never does._

* * *

 

** January 2002 **

Sir Reginald Hargreeves calls for them to sit. With his order, the meal begins. It’s the first night in weeks their father’s joined them for dinner. They eat in silence, one of the first rules Klaus and his siblings learned. Seldom, if ever, will one of them challenge that rule and speak up during a meal. Every time, without fail, they are met with their father's disapproval and sharp tone of voice. Even rarer are the times when their father breaks the silence himself. Tonight becomes one of those occasions.

No one expects it when their father suddenly slams his fist onto the table. Every plate and glass rattles from his force. "Klein!" No one corrects him. They all know their effort would be in vain. "Cease that revolting slurping this instance!"

Klaus, face quickly growing red, carefully removes the cup from his lips and lowers his finely pureed shake. He shuts his mouth, holds his jaw still, and reminds himself he can't speak. Not unless he wants another week of recovery, another trip to the oral surgeon. His siblings freeze for the briefest of moments, each taken aback by their father’s sudden temper. Then one by one, they each return to their meals. Klaus hesitantly shifts his gaze to their father.

"If you can't be respectful, remove yourself so we may eat in peace."

His stomach begins to twist itself into knots, already knowing how this will end. He's unable to respond, unable to explain that he wasn’t intentionally trying to be a nuisance. Sure, he jokes and clowns more than his siblings, and he irritates his dad here and there. However, right now he physically can’t even if he wanted to. Which, he most definitely does not. The last time he upset their father, he... well, he's presently living with the consequences. _Mom’s closet- glee- stairs- a shout of disapproval - slipping, falling, tumbling, down down do-_ Klaus mentally shakes himself, forces the too fresh memory away. Pain flares in his mouth, his new constant companion.

His father taps the table, waits. Klaus stares back, helpless. He can’t speak, can’t maneuver his face to mouth an apology or to beg leniency. His stomach continues to knot itself, and he knows he can’t win. Not this.

“Nothing to say for yourself?”

Klaus slowly shakes his head no and prepares for the inevitable.

"Foolishness will get you nowhere, Number Four," reproaches Hargreeves. _Number_ _Four_ , the one name their father always got right. Sir Hargreeves looks away, dismissively waves him off. "You are dismissed." His voice leaves no room for argument. Never does.

Klaus lowers his head as he scoots his seat back. He stands, pushes in his chair, and reaches for his glass.

"Leave it," snaps his father. It's only words, only a tone they've all heard countless times before, always for some transgression, but Klaus still fights the urge to flinch. Sir Hargreeve's voice is like a slap.

Left with nothing more to do, Klaus turns away to leave the dining hall. As Klaus exits, he misses the fleeting look of pity Vanya sends him. As Klaus exits, he misses Ben momentarily lowering his fork to watch him walk away.

As Klaus exits, he misses...

...Fischer’s jaw minutely tighten.

...Allison’s neutral expression slipping into the slightest of frowns.

...Diego’s hands tightening into fists under the table.

...Luther’s quick glances from their father, to Klaus, to each of their siblings.

*********

Later that evening, in the all-consuming dark of his bedroom, Klaus finally realizes life’s harsh reality. No matter what he does or doesn't do, how hard he tries to behave appropriately, he's always doing something wrong in the eyes of his father. He will never be able to please him. Never. In that moment, the truth of his own thoughts pains him more than his broken and healing jaw. Maybe...

Klaus pops open his prescription bottle of pain medication and pours out his evening dosage. He dry swallows, returns the cap, and crawls further under his covers.

_...maybe I should just give up._


	3. Absent Smiles

_"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Allison, Ben, Diego, Fischer, Klaus, Luther, and Vanya. Happy birthday to you."_

_There's a cupcake on a saucer before each of them. Grace, their father's new wife, smiles as she sings. On the last line, she steps away from the table, and reaches for her Nikon on the nearby counter. She lifts up and clicks. Snapshots seven, smiling, giggling five year olds._

_As they grow up, Grace moves away from snapping quick pictures in the moment on their birthday to requesting posed photos. Their thirteenth birthday comes, and it’s the first without all seven of them. No one’s too eager to smile or cut up, all waiting to receive their brother’s promised call. The phone never rings._

_Grace lines them up behind the cake. Allison and Vanya stand in the middle. Diego on Allison’s right, Luther at the end. Klaus and Ben stand on the other side of Vanya. The first picture’s not quite right, and it takes a few more tries before Grace captures all six of her kids smiling._

_The next few years are hard, birthdays always a reminder of a brother’s absence. Grace knows it won’t always be like this, that one day all seven of them will crowd around a large cake again, competing for the best slice, the most candles blown. She knows it won’t always be like this, but she never thought it would be worse._

_On October 1, 2006, Grace realizes she was wrong. On that day, her camera captures only five._

* * *

 

** August 2002 **

Ben finds her standing outside Fischer’s door. He steps closer, makes his shoes sound on the wooden floor to announce his presence. Vanya, deep in thought, momentarily startles, but quickly calms when she turns and sees him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He stops beside her, gently bumps his shoulder with hers. “Is he in there?”

She nods before facing forwards again.

The door's slightly ajar. Knowing Vanya, she’s likely waited here debating whether to slip through or knock. He wonders if their brother even knows it's still open. _Of course he does. It’s Fischer._

"Fischer?" Vanya softly calls out, leaves the ‘may she come in’ unsaid. The sound of drawers slamming shut is their only reply. She waits a moment longer, but their brother neither emerges nor responds. Vanya starts to frown, but stops herself. She’s not about to give up after one try. Instead, she counts her breaths, tightens the hand that currently grips her skirt. Ben offers her a small, encouraging smile.

She considers her next words in an attempt to avoid another argument. “Fischer,” she starts again, “Ben’s here, too. May we help you pack?”

The room momentarily grows silent. The next thing Vanya and Ben register is the door being harshly pulled back, their brother on the other side, staring them down.

“Why do you want to help now?” Fischer crosses his arms, bars passage to his bedroom.

“I don’t- I mean I do-,” he rolls his eyes as she stumbles over what to say. Finally, the words come to her. “Fischer, I want to apologize.” When she doesn’t immediately continue, he gives a slight nod, a nonverbal, ‘I’m listening.’

“This opportunity is incredible, and I forgot that. I don’t-” their brother tenses, “want you to go, but I know you have to... And part of me wants you to.” - _to chase your dreams and succeed, to get far away from here_ , but Vanya doesn’t say that. “I was being selfish.” She glances away, lowers her head. A few strands behind her ears fall loose and wave in front of her face. The memory of their argument still stings, but this time it’s because of her words, not his. Vanya shakes her head, pushes those thoughts aside. 

Ben felt awful just watching Fischer and Vanya fight. He can only imagine how worse they felt... how they feel now.  _“If you go, you’ll never come back! You’ll forget about us and-”_  Vanya’s angry words replay in his mind. He wonders if his siblings hear them, too.

Fischer runs a hand through his hair, lets out a resigned sigh. He steps back and waves them both on to join him inside. Vanya lets out a semi-shaky breath as she walks in. Ben follows a pace or two behind her.

Stepping into their brother’s bedroom makes his fast-approaching departure all the more real for them. The room’s practically bare. All of Fischer’s whiteboards and chalkboards are off the walls and neatly stacked beside his bed. Several suitcases, stuffed with clothes and the few miscellaneous items Fischer owns, stand at the ready along one of the walls. _He’s... taking everything._ Vanya suspected this, but she’d hoped she was wrong. Ben seeks out her hand to briefly grasp it. It’s not much, but he hopes his presence is helping her, even minutely.

“I’m taking my library. Pack each box a few books below Luther’s current lifting weight.” Neither of them have any clue what their other brother’s current weight limit is. Dad stopped allowing them to observe one another’s trainings when they turned ten. Besides, nowadays the only person Luther seems interested in talking to is Allison. Vanya and Ben silently reach the same conclusion, they’ll just have to guesstimate.

Vanya walks to the two bookshelves, both overflowing with a vast assortment of literature. Fischer heads to his desk, begins rifling through the three drawers there. Helping his brother pack wasn’t on his list of things to do today, but now that he’s here, Ben’s grateful for this quiet, shared moment between the three of them. Before they know it, Fischer will be gone, and it’ll just be Ben and Vanya. Six and Seven. His heart momentarily clenches at the thought, as he joins Vanya by the books.

The three siblings work in silence.

After an hour, Fischer’s entire book collection is neatly packed in five and a half boxes. His desk’s empty and laptop packed away. In two days, Fischer will be gone, off to college on the other side of the country. His room will be another empty, unlived in space, a home only to dust and bugs. Vanya blinks back tears. Neither Fischer nor Ben mention it.

She stands up, stretches her tired legs. Fischer ignores her as he moves into his closet. Ben doubts he’s left anything in there, but... he gets it. He’d probably still be mad, too, if he was in Fischer’s place.

Ben rises and heads for the hall first. Vanya, knowing when she’s no longer wanted, follows close behind. She passes back into the hall and turns to shut the door, but stops midway. Ben, already a few feet away, pauses to check on her.

Fischer’s there. His hands are in his pockets, and he eyes something off to the side. Vanya lowers her arm, curls her toes inside her shoes. She wants to pinch herself, but she knows he’ll only snap at her to stop punishing herself. Ben quiets his breaths, considers giving the two privacy, but Fischer speaks up before he gets the chance to properly leave. 

“I’ll be back.”

She looks up, slightly surprised, and catches his gaze.

“You’re my family, Vanya. I’ll never forget you.”

_I’ll be back._

Relief swells inside her chest, and she has the urge to hug him. She refrains, smiles instead. His words ease the worry she feels, the doubts and fears that fester in the crevices of her mind. Unbeknownst to her brothers, she holds onto Fischer’s words, locks them away somewhere safe, a constant reminder her brother cares, will always care.

Ben silently leaves them then, returns to his own bedroom. He’s not sure how long they stand there, nor if they say anything else.

Two days later, the entire family, excluding their father, stands outside the mansion’s gate to wave Fischer off. Any minute now, a mustard yellow taxi will pull up to whisk Fischer away to the airport. Ben hugs Fischer and whispers, “Safe trip.” Fischer, in rare form, returns the embrace. Vanya’s the last to tell him goodbye. No one hears what they tell each other. It isn’t for them.

Fischer steps back, promises to call. Then he turns away, suitcases in hand, and greets the taxi. Luther starts to move, most likely to help him load his luggage, but Fischer shoots him a quick glare, halting Luther in mid-step. Ben thinks Luther looks almost hurt, but if he is, his brother swiftly covers it up. The day prior, Pogo had Fischer’s personal items shipped to his dormitory. All he held now was two suitcases.

Klaus carelessly bumps into him as Fischer gets into the back of the taxi. Ben attempts to avoid him, but Klaus moves again before he can. His left foot falls victim to one of his brother’s obnoxiously big combat boots, shoes their father forbid. He lets out a short hiss of pain and immediately yanks his foot out from under Klaus’. By the time it takes him to reopen his eyes, to peer around Klaus, the taxi’s gone. Ben missed seeing Fischer off.

Suddenly, Klaus crowds him. Questions and apologies roll off his tongue. He’s speaking with his hands, too. Their brother is gone, for the foreseeable future, no less, and all Klaus cares about is his foot? Ben doesn’t even care about his foot!

Someone’s talking, suggests they should go back in, but all Ben can focus on is Klaus, his too close face, his not-right breath. Was that-

“Alcohol?” The word leaves his lips, and Klaus freezes. Right then, Ben knows he’s right. Anger suddenly courses through his veins, but so, too, does disappointment. It’s the disappointment that settles into his bones and forms his next words. “This was Fischer’s day, Klaus, and you ruined it." His _'for me'_ goes unsaid. "I hope that drink was worth it.” Ben turns, ignores the faintest of pains from the top of his foot. Grace holds open the gate, a tight smile on her flawless face. He wonders whether she heard him, whether his other siblings did, too. Ben doesn't bother checking their expressions, doesn't bother slowing his pace as he steps back inside and up the stairs. He thinks he should care, should apologize for the bite in his tone, but he just... doesn’t care. Not today.


	4. Pages in the Dark

_From the moment the children begin crawling, Sir Hargreeves knows Number Five possesses an intellect surpassing that of his peers. To stifle that mind would be a disservice to society, so he takes it upon himself to cultivate the boy’s education._

_While One, Two, Three, Four, Six, and Seven nap or engage in, as Grace says, ‘recess,’ Sir Hargreeves whisks Five away for further study. While the others progress yearly, Five accelerates at a more desirable rate. By thirteen, the boy is off to earn his bachelor’s degree, having successfully shaved off five unnecessary years._

* * *

 

** January 2003 **

Fischer taught him this when they were eight.

On silent feet, Ben leaves his bed. In seconds, he reaches his bedroom door.

With his left hand, Ben gently pushes the door forwards. When he meets resistance, Ben grips the knob with his right hand and slowly turns it. He holds his breath as he lifts his left hand off of the door. He pulls the door towards him to create an opening wide enough for one eye to look through. Ben leans in to peek out into the hall. Not a single light nor sound greets him.

He moves his head away, returns his left hand to the door. With his right still holding the knob in a tight twist, Ben pushes his door shut, and unwinds the handle only after he hits resistance. He releases his breath, takes in another, releases again. It takes time for his heartrate to return to its regular pace afterwards, but once he’s back in bed, lamp on, and book in hand, it will be fine. Years of this routine, but his nerves, the underlying sense of anxious dread, have yet to fade or lessen. He wonders if they ever will.

With the coast confirmed clear, Ben quietly crouches down, blindly reaches behind the shelving to the left of his door. He pulls out a bath towel, already rolled into a long line. He places it on the floor, slides it next to the bottom of his door, successfully blocking light from entering or exiting through the gap.

Fischer taught him this when they were eight. A mixture of ugly feelings fills him at the thought of his brother. Ben squeezes his eyes shut until doing so hurts, tries to force those thoughts, those feelings, away.

He quietly stands and moves back to his bed. His book’s in the case of his second pillow, current page marked by a shoelace. He recently misplaced his usual bookmark, so he had to make do in the moment. Ben turns on his bedside lamp before he crawls under his sheets. His hands immediately seek out his novel.

Ben manages to read a total of two pages before moments from the previous day invade his mind. He stares at the black text, but the words begin to run together.

Today, now yesterday, was supposed to be the day Fischer made his monthly call to the house. _Supposed to be._ However, when the time came, Ben and his other siblings were left forgotten by their brother. Again. Father ordered them away from the phone after they waited five minutes past the predetermined time. No one argued to stay longer. Not even Vanya.

One call. One call a month, and yet, his brother couldn’t even be bothered to put out that much effort. Ben closes his book in frustration, lightly tosses it onto his bed and away from him. The cover stares back at him, the title and author both recommendations from Fischer. It took him nearly seven months, but Ben finally started reading it in December. The thought to quit crosses his mind, _has_ crossed his mind several times now.

He wonders whether anyone will even gather for Fischer’s call next month. Five months and only one call in September. _Vanya was right after all._

Ben throws his head back and glares at his ceiling. It’d be so much easier to just _hate_  Fischer, but he can’t, not really. On further consideration, he doesn’t think he ever could.

He hears a window slide from a room over. He’s not sure whether open or shut, but he’s positive it’s Klaus sneaking about one way or another. Ben wonders for a moment if Fischer ever taught him his tricks. Of their siblings, Fischer most likely told Vanya. Klaus, though? From the amount of poorly muffled noise coming from his brother’s bedroom, Ben highly doubts Fischer bestowed any tips onto Klaus. (Then again maybe Klaus never listened... nor cared.)

Ben recalls how old smoke mixed with something odious clung to Klaus most of the day. _Marijuana_ , he thinks. Ben doesn’t know what made his brother start down his path nor when he began. For months now, Klaus seemed to be getting into trouble every other week for one vice or another.

A bang suddenly sounds from Klaus’ room. Without a single thought, Ben has his lamp off in seconds. There’s a high chance Mom, Pogo, or Dad didn’t hear it, but there’s always the chance one of them did. If one did hear, he hopes it was Mom.

Ben slows his breaths, softens his exhales and inhales. A minute passes. Five. Eleven. No one comes by, and the noises from Klaus’ room eventually fade away before ceasing all together.

Once more, Ben is left alone to the dark and the quiet. He lies down and returns his book to its secret location. Maybe tomorrow night will be more productive.

* * *

 

_Originally, it irks Sir Hargreeves to no end that his ward applies and accepts admission to a university across the country without his knowledge nor permission. He knows Number Five did so deliberately as an act of rebellion. For the past few years, his growing defiance has begun spreading to the others. In a way, Five’s choice presents him with the perfect solution. By removing Number Five, the others will fall back in line._

_However, it immediately becomes clear distance does nothing to quell Number Five’s own continued disobedience. If Five presumes he’d overlook his insubordination, then the boy is not as bright as he thought._

_Sir Hargreeves calls his bank on a Friday afternoon in September, executing Five's punishment. By winter break, Number Five will be home, transferring to another, closer college. All Reginald has to do is wait him out._


	5. Purple Stereo

_In life, Sir Hargreeves expected extraordinary accomplishments from each of his children._

_After Number Five, Number Seven presented the most potential for greatness despite her unfortunate diagnosis. Of course, if she knew that, she’d grow complacent in her craft, mediocre, average. To be extraordinary, she would need to never cease her quest for perfection._

_Number One, in his own field of weightlifting, was a bright, new star on both the national and international junior circuit. When Number Five and Seven failed to advance themselves as he originally presumed they would, Sir Hargreeves shifted most of his attention to Number One. However, that, too, proved ultimately fruitless._

_In the end, all of his children were failures._

* * *

 

** June 2003 **

Her door’s ajar, but he knows she’ll slam it in his face if he attempts to enter. Violin music fills her room and sprawls out into the hall. There was a time when she’d have played for his and Fischer’s eyes and ears only, eager for an audience made of her favorite people. Now, Vanya plays alone. She doesn’t practice on a set schedule anymore, either. Weeks pass where she never lifts her bow. Then there’s nights where her strings sound into the early morning hours. She’s never reprimanded by their father for her moonlight concerts. No, instead, Sir Hargreeves remarks at breakfast each following morning how she played out of tune, or too fast, or too slow. _“Much too amateurish for a player your age, Number Seven.”_

Ben struggles with the urge to enter, to see his sister, to talk with her like they used to. He knows it’d only end in an argument. Instead, Ben eventually turns away and continues down the hallway. His thoughts drift to his other siblings.

Allison’s out with Pogo as her chaperone, he recalls, most likely attending another open audition for some off off broadway production. He wonders if Dad will allow her to perform this time if she gets a part. _Probably not._ Luther, too, is nowhere near the mansion today. He and Dad left for Mexico a few days ago, off attending the Junior World Weightlifting Championship in Hermosillo. Soon enough, Luther will be fifteen, old enough to be one of the competitors.

Diego’s here somewhere, Ben knows. He walks past his brother’s bedroom door, but hears nothing. _Might be in the gym._ Ben’s stomach briefly flips and sinks at the thought. The last time he found Diego down there, his brother’s knuckles were freshly cut open and raw, covered in his own drying blood. _Please be with Mom in the kitchen._

Unintelligible words screamed to a loud beat sound from Klaus’ room, another song their father would no doubt forbid if he heard it. Without consciously deciding to, Ben finds himself knocking on Klaus’ door before he can stop himself. The song ends as Klaus greets him. Surprise flashes across his brother’s face, but Klaus effortlessly schools his expression into a grin in seconds. Ben blinks, the force that brought him here suddenly gone. Another song starts to blare from Klaus’ purple boom box, acquired via a trade he made with Vanya a few months ago.

“Bonjour, mein bruder.”

Ben can’t help the automatic groan that leaves his lips nor the shake of his head. Klaus laughs at his immediate reaction. “Not the same language, Klaus.”

“Potato, pomme de terre.” Klaus shrugs. “Did you need something?”

“I,” Ben pauses, unsure. The current song fades out, replaced by an obnoxious car ad. “The song.”

“That one?”

Ben shakes his head, thinks back to the screaming, the unexplainable draw he felt minutes ago. “The one before. Do you know what it was?”

Klaus smiles, and Ben’s momentarily taken aback by how genuine his brother looks right then. “The angry one right? It was Linkin Park’s new song, Faint.”

_Faint._

_“_ I think they have a new album coming or maybe it already released. Beats me.”

Ben nods. He wants to hear it again, from the beginning, without a door and distance distorting the lyrics. He wonders what Vanya or Fischer would say if they knew he was interested in what Klaus listened to. ~~He wonders if their opinions should even still matter.~~

Klaus lowers his eyes, absently swings his arms. “Did you like it? I can turn it down if it’s too loud.”

“I- yeah, I did.”

Later, Ben and Klaus find Diego in the gym. Klaus convinces him to join them for Monopoly and Clue upstairs. (Their brother’s eyes are slightly red, slightly wet, but neither comment on it. Ben’s just relieved Diego has bruises and not new wounds.) However, that is later.

Before they head down and seek out their number two, Klaus invites Ben in. With nothing else to do, Ben enters. Klaus’ radio plays as they lie on the ground and stare up at the ceiling. His brother’s room has a hint of smoke clinging to it. An empty bottle glistens from under Klaus’ bed. For once, Ben doesn’t care about his brother’s unsavory habits, about the smoke and alcohol. For once, he enjoys the moment for what it is. Time with his brother.

* * *

 

_He wonders, once or twice over the years, why Anastasia ever wanted kids to begin with._


	6. Tight in the Arms

_When he’s five years old, his father sits him down in his office. Sir Hargreeves spends an hour imparting upon him the importance of his ‘role.’ He doesn’t entirely understand his father’s speech. Can’t remember much of it either. Regardless, he leaves the office knowing without a doubt he has to be a ‘leader.’ His father seemed to say that almost as often as his name._

_“You are Number One for a reason, Number One. You must be a leader for the others. You must set the example for everyone else. This means you must cease these childish...”_

_When he’s five years old, Luther decides to be a ‘leader,’ the same kind of leader his dad talked about so seriously._

* * *

 

** January 2004 **

Luther’s record player spins an 80’s girl band he doesn’t know the name of. Ben finds his feet absently tapping along as he leans against his brother’s doorframe. He wonders if Luther’s competition peers know his music preferences. _Doubt it_ , he thinks afterwards. Their father or Pogo is always with them whenever they leave the house. The likelihood Luther has friends outside the academy is the same likelihood for any of them. 00.00%. Unless, one counted Allison’s self-titled ‘rivals’ and Klaus’ dealers as friends, which Ben does not.

A pair of uniform shorts flies through the air before landing on Luther’s bedspread. A too small jacket and dress shirt closely follow.

Spring cleaning, Luther said, when Ben followed him up after lunch. Ben considered telling him January was more a winter month and that spring cleaning usually began in March. However, he knew doing so might have popped his brother’s motivation and unintentionally deflated his good spirit. He’ll save those comments for another time.

Ben contently stands and listens along as Luther works. He thinks the last time the two of them hung out alone was a month or so ago. Recently, it seems their father keeps them busier with each passing day.

Clothes, uniforms, shoes, and athletic wear pile up one on top of each other. Another song plays through the room. A thought springs to mind as Ben observes the amount of stuff Luther can’t wear anymore.

He’s asking his question aloud before he can stop himself. “Have you always owned this much?”

Luther pauses and turns to him. Ben motions to his bed, and Luther glances to the pile. His brother gives a slight shrug. “Possibly.”

Ben hums, studies the several pairs of shoes he’s never worn before. He racks his memories, tries to picture them on Diego or Klaus. Nothing comes to mind.

“Why do you ask?” Luther’s gaze is solely on Ben now. “We all have this much stuff.”

_We all have this much stuff._

Ben fights the urge to immediately reply with a harsh and fast,  _“No, we don’t.”_ He blinks, breathes through his nose. Blinks. He meets Luther’s curiously confused eyes. He chooses patience over frustration, settles on a shrug of his own. “First time seeing your closet.”

Luther’s gaze flits to his closet, then back to the pile of items to donate. _To toss, if Dad has his way,_ thinks Ben. “You’ve seen my room before, Ben.”

“Human error.” He moves off of the doorframe, walks towards Luther’s desk chair. “May I?”

“Sure.”

Luther returns to his task as Ben sits. He wonders how many clothes Vanya and Allison have. When was the last time they cleaned out their closets? When was the last time _any_ of them did?

Something big and dark eventually catches Ben’s gaze. Luther’s now sorting through his winter wardrobe, and there on his bed lies the solid black hoodie Mom bought him four or so months ago under the direction of their father. Their dad dismissed Ben’s request for a hoodie of his own. _Without results of progress, you have no need for superfluous items, Number Six._ Ben stares, recalls every time he saw Luther wear it. Very few occasions rise to memory. A spark of boldness strikes him then.

“Luther?”

“Yeah?”

His brother looks back, expectantly. Ben stands, crosses the floor. He runs his hand over the black material, lifts the discarded hoodie up. “May I keep this?”

Luther’s face contorts into a mixture of emotions Ben can’t individually identify, but after a moment he nods, offers a half smile. “It’s all yours.”

*********

He wears it that evening after dinner. It may be too tight for Luther, but it comfortably fits Ben. He pulls the hood up as he settles into bed, book in hand, lamp light aglow.

* * *

 

_The first morning Luther wakes alone in the mansion (aside from his father, Mom, and Pogo) his mind drifts back to that afternoon in his father’s study so many years ago._

_The first morning Luther wakes alone in the mansion, he realizes he failed as his siblings’ leader._

_Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two._ _They were all gone._

_Some leader he was._

_Years later, when the memory of flames racing across his chest, his arms, his back, haunt him… when his father hands him a one-way ticket to travel far away… Luther wonders whether he will ever live up to his father’s expectations._


	7. Sister Stranger, Brother Delinquent

_Sir Hargreeves administers their first assessment when they are six months old. None of his wards recall this, nor do they recall completing more at the age of one, two, and three. A few remember aspects at the age of four, a few more at age five. They each remember their father’s yearly assessments from the age of six and older. Every time, Sir Hargreeves meticulously documents each child’s results._

_Number One is the first to exhibit fine motor and gross motor skills, even before six months of age. By age four, Sir Hargreeves hypothesizes he will eventually be the tallest of the seven. While his other wards approach wrestling as a form of play or with trepidation, Number One immediately takes to the sport at the age of six. When Number One attempts weightlifting, the boy's aptitude for the realm of competitive physical strength comes as no surprise to Sir Hargreeves._

_It takes longer for Number Two to present anything useful for him to work with. Finally, at the age of three, Number Two’s hand-eye coordination results appear to be promising. Each following year, Number Two ranks first or second among the children. Later, Hargreeves takes note of Number Two’s endurance. To best hone and capitalize on the boy's natural abilities, Sir Hargreeves orders the immediate construction of a swimming pool, a target practice room for archery, and a space for tennis and table tennis._

_Number Three and Number Four are the first of the seven to verbalize. Early on, neither exhibit exceptional athletic potential, but Number Three does take to martial arts more so than Number Four. While the other children finish Tae-Kwon-Do after receiving their first degree black belts, Number Three continues her training in addition to studying Judo. Her eventual preoccupation with performance presents itself as merely an annoying fancy and not as a worthy investment of Sir Hargreeves’ time._

_Number Four proves to be of more use away from anything physical. In an effort to prevent Number Four's childish foolery and vandalism, Sir Hargreeves selects the pursuit of history for the boy. Just as Number Two unfortunately develops a stutter, Number Four develops irrational fears._

* * *

 

** Sunday, Oct. 3, 2004 **

Two days ago he turned fifteen. It's a strange fact to accept, one's birthday. He wonders if he'll ever feel his age. Wonders whether one even can. The sudden thought of his father as a fifteen year old nearly causes him to trip over himself. Ben's not entirely sure whether he should laugh aloud or cringe at the image that thought brings to mind.

He steadies himself before he enters the bathroom, locking the door behind him. It takes him a few minutes, but soon enough he's in the shower.

As thoughts are known to do, Ben's mind drifts elsewhere, from birthdays and ages to the last six months.

If one were to ask Ben then how he felt about the next year, he’d answer, “Optimistic.” He can’t recall another time he was as close to Klaus as he is now. The same can be said about Luther and Allison, at least since Fischer left. Originally, after their brother’s departure and following radio silence, Luther and Allison leaned solely on one another, consequently shutting everyone else out. Recently, both his brother and sister have made an effort to engage with their siblings outside of required activities. Ben nearly forgot how contagious Luther’s laughter could be and how enjoyable charades is when played alongside Allison.

Violin music joins the roar of the shower, and a smile stretches across his face at the sound. Vanya, too, had changed. Ben still recalls the night at the end of May when she knocked on his door. Upon opening it, she immediately embraced him in a hug. Ben’s still not certain what motivated her to suddenly reach out, but he’s grateful all the same. He missed his friend and sister.

There’s still a Fischer-sized hole in their lives, but Ben thinks the six of them are finally settling into a new normal. He… he thinks this may last.

Ben finishes his shower a few minutes after the violin music ends; his skin and mood slightly refreshed from the day. He dresses in the bathroom and runs a comb through his wet hair before he leaves in search of one of his siblings.

Today is one of those rare occasions when their father is away, and with Pogo occupied in the laboratory for the foreseeable future, Ben intends to make the most of his time before dinner.

 _Diego or Vanya?_ Ben’s feet lead him to his sister’s room first. He’s opening her door before it occurs to him he should have knocked first. He doesn’t regret his action for long.

Ben pushes open Vanya’s door, expecting to find her with headphones on or reading over sheet music. After all, she was practicing her instrument only minutes ago. Instead, he finds her sitting at her desk, attention devoted to her computer screen. Upon hearing him enter, Vanya jolts upright. She hurriedly faces him and blocks her computer with her body. Vanya starts to stretch out her arms, but realizing the message that sends, stops mid-act. Immediately, Ben’s concerned.

“Ben! Hi, hey. What do you need?”

He studies Vanya’s posture, her expression. _She’s nervous, but why?_

“Are you alright?” He steps closer.

“Of course. Did you need something?”

“Vanya,” his frown forms on its own accord, “is there a reason you don’t want me to see your computer?”

“You came into _my_ room unannounced, Ben. I have a right to my privacy.” She says, voice hard. Ben knows that, _he does_ , but he can’t help the worry he feels at the sight of Vanya’s out of character behavior.

“I thought you trusted me.”

“Ben, I do. Honest, but I- I,” Vanya hesitates. She looks away from him, considers her options. Her shoulders slightly sag. Ben takes his chance to peer at the unblocked parts of Vanya’s screen. Most of it is still hidden from view behind Vanya, but he does manage to make out the site she’s on.

“Myspace?” Genuine surprise colors his voice. _When did she-? Why did she-?_

Vanya, realizing her error, quickly rights her posture and shoots Ben a glare-like expression. “Get out, Ben. It’s none of your business.”

He considers leaving then, turning away and forgetting the encounter entirely, but his curiosity is as piqued as his worry at this point, so he stays.

“Vanya, you know I won’t tell Dad.”

Emotions Ben can’t name war across her face. Finally, she lowers her guard entirely and breathes a defeated sigh. Ben silently observes as she dejectedly resolves herself to the situation. She turns from him and settles back into her chair. Ben walks up behind her and leans over her shoulder to properly see the screen.

He freezes in place as his eyes take-in the information. His heart constricts and feels as if it falls into his stomach, as his eyes read over the page a second and third time.

This can’t be real. This can’t be. Vanya wouldn’t hide this from them, especially not from him. As much as he tries to convince himself of this, he knows it’s all in vain. Instantly, Vanya’s actions and words replay in his mind.

In that moment, Ben is consumed by the onslaught of emotions coursing through him. Betrayal. Anger. Sadness. Disappointment. Worthlessness. Hurt.

“What the hell, Vanya?” he snaps, as he backs away. He thinks he can hear each distinct beat of his heart; it’s pounding so loudly. “How long were you going to keep this to yourself?”

“Ben- I- I,” Vanya slowly stands back up. Her eyes appear to glisten under the ceiling light, but Ben’s too distressed himself to remotely care.

“Do the others know?” He asks. _“Do the others know?”_ he asks again when Vanya doesn’t immediately respond.

She looks to the floor, as she shakes her head no.

“Vanya. How long have you been in contact with Fischer?”

“Four months.”

*****

Ben doesn’t tell the others. He threatens to, yes, but Vanya begs him not to. He relents for the present time, if only to speed up his departure from her room. If he could, he would walk right out the front doors and not come back until late into the evening. Despite the mansion’s extravagant size, Ben feels anywhere inside would be too close to Vanya.

He can’t believe it. He genuinely can’t believe that Vanya and Fischer have been communicating online for the past four months. Neither bothering to inform Ben nor their other siblings of the fact. Do they mean nothing to them? _Do I mean nothing to them?_

Ben can’t remember the last time he was this pissed off... this hurt.

Unfortunately, his night only gets worse.

*****

Dinner is a tense affair despite their father’s absence. Ben finishes his meal in record time and excuses himself just as quickly. He intentionally ignores Vanya’s gaze as he leaves the table.

It is twenty minutes or so after everyone else finishes dinner when shouting erupts in the hall.

Ben darts from his bed at the sound of Allison’s voice. He pulls open his door and joins his siblings in the hallway. At the end of the corridor is Allison and Luther’s bedrooms. Outside Allison’s room stands Allison and Klaus. Diego is the closest to them. Vanya peers out from her own bedroom, but doesn’t make a move to approach. As Ben makes his way towards them, Luther busts out from the bathroom, his hands not yet dry. They reach Allison, Klaus, and Diego at the same time.

“What else have you pawned off, huh?” Allison’s eyes are narrowed. She’s righteous fury personified. Her words cause Ben’s insides to constrict. He didn’t hear what brought this on, but he pieces together the context all the same. He hopes his conclusion is wrong. He hopes Allison’s wrong. However, the moment Klaus opens his mouth, Ben knows he and Allison aren’t.

“I haven’t pawned off anything,” lies Klaus. “I simply misplaced your jacket. Come on, Alli.” He rises to the balls of his feet, then rocks back down. His hands are in his pockets, but Ben can see them jerk through his pants, wanting to fly out and wave off Allison’s questions.

If there’s anything Ben has learned over the past year hanging out with his brother, it’s that he can tell when Klaus is lying. And if Klaus is visiting pawn stores again…

Ben loses track of who speaks next, who shouts what. Ben genuinely thought nothing could come close to making him feel as shitty as he did earlier, but this… this comes damn close.

Absently, he realizes he interrupts someone, but Ben’s too hurt to care.

“You promised, Klaus.” Everyone looks to him when he speaks. “You swore to me you were going to quit this time.” That's it, isn't it? What possibly made him believe this time was any different than the other times Klaus announced he was getting clean or sober?

He meets his brother’s eyes and sees not a sliver of remorse.

“Benny,” starts Klaus, but Ben’s already turned away. He holds his head high, walks away with a still lip and dry eyes. Klaus calls out after him. Allison warns Klaus to leave her room alone or else. Then she slams her door shut. Ben hears as Luther and Diego start in on Klaus, but Ben doesn’t bother to pause, to look back, to confront, to question, to aid.

Klaus got himself in this mess. He would get himself out of it.

As Ben passes Vanya, the memory of her betrayal floods his senses once more, but this time in combination with the freshness of Klaus’ own.

Only three hours ago, Ben was reflecting on his good fortune. Now? Now Ben knows without a doubt he was only ever deluding himself.

* * *

 

_Sir Hargreeves capitalizes on Number Five’s cognitive development, as his legacy would be incomplete without an esteemed academic in the maths and sciences._

_Number Six is the last to crawl, the last to walk, the last to verbalize. Later, Sir Hargreeves takes note of his ward’s ability to speed read and preoccupation with the written word. He encourages neither in the boy; instead he tutors him in the art of marksmanship. Disappointingly, Number Six develops an infantile aversion to violence before the age of eight._

_Number Seven exhibits the most challenging of temperaments among the infants, and later, children. Where others either excel, shift, or fail in their results, she routinely scores average. After one too many tantrums from the girl, Sir Hargreeves embarks on developing a pharmaceutical solution. When he presents the finished drug to distributors, Sir Hargreeves is heralded as every parent’s hero in the media. Of course, only the country’s wealthiest are able to afford a prescription for their own children. He starts Number Seven on the prescription at the age of six. She picks up the violin at the age of nine._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments appreciated!


	8. Usual Suspects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is quickly approaching 2006...

_One day they will be adults, old enough to journey into society and never look back. One day they will wake far away from the confines of the mansion, free from under their father’s control and his ever watchful eyes._

  
_They know this, Diego and Allison and Klaus and Ben. They do. However, as days go by, as they leave childhood and enter adolescence, the future only seems to grow further away._

  
_There are nights, occasionally, when the four of them gather together in the attic to dream aloud. More often though, are the nights when they are joined by Luther and Fischer, and the six siblings pass the time mutually complaining about the day’s lesson or their individual trainings with Dad._

  
_After it becomes clear Fischer will be departing for college before any of them, they rarely see their brother during the week. He appears to always be sequestered away, his head in a book, repeatedly writing and calculating theoretical equations. So, they adapt and fall into new patterns. Ultimately, intentionally or not, they drift apart._

  
_Their improvised and spontaneous gatherings are never officially called off; they simply each quit coming. If anyone notices the absence of their previous attic conversations, no one mentions it._

* * *

 

**Friday, Dec. 31, 2004**

His door hinges squeak as someone enters. Ben pointedly ignores whichever of his siblings stands there. Instead, he keeps his eyes on Mary Shelley’s text. This is his third read through of _Frankenstein,_ but he doubts whoever is here will recognize the title to call him out on it.

“Still punishing us?”

“Last I checked,” Ben replies blandly, “your name wasn’t Klaus nor Vanya.” 

Diego pushes off from the door frame to fully walk into Ben’s bedroom. “Klaus, I get, I do, but Vanya? Ben, what the hell could she have possibly done to piss you off this long?”

Ben sucks in a cheek, carefully bites down. He flips a page, refuses to look his brother’s way.

“You can be a real ass, when you want to be, Ben,” Diego comments, the words more an observation than an insult.

Ben sighs then, his annoyance swiftly transforming to exhaustion. He can hear the festive noise from downstairs, absently wonders how long their father will allow everyone to stay up this year. “What do you want, Diego?”

“You to get your head out of your ass.”

Ben pulls up the hood of his hoodie. He hums before replying. They both know Ben only does so out of show. “I’ll consider your request.” He glances up, meets Diego’s eyes as he nods towards the hall. “Close the door on your way out.”  


**January 2005**

They are gathered in the front living room as per their father’s demand. They stand in numerical order, Luther, then Diego, then Allison… Four, Six, Seven. There’s not a space between Klaus and Ben, not anymore. Sir Hargreeves stands in front of them. He slowly walks from one end of the line to the other, then back again. The six of them stare straight ahead, stay as still as statues. The situation is beyond obvious to Ben. _Someone_ is in trouble. Maybe they all are.

Sir Hargreeves stops between Allison and Klaus. Mom and Pogo are nowhere to be seen. Ben feels his heart rate steadily quicken. Their father clears his throat before he starts. “It has come to my attention that one of you has deliberately deceived me.”

Something catches in Ben’s throat. _Klaus._  There’s nothing Ben can do for him now. Nothing any of them can do.

Their father turns to face Luther, and he scrutinizes each of them, one by one. He pauses on Ben. His heartbeat shifts to an erratic pace under his father’s prolonged stare. Blood pounds within his ears.

”Number Seven.”

Everything goes silent. The color drains from Ben’s face as he’s left stunned. Sir Hargreeves directs his cold and unforgiving hard gaze onto Vanya. Ben chances a glance, catches his sister’s look of anxious dread.

”Do you or do you not have a prohibited online profile.” It isn’t a question.

Her mouth drops, a denial on the tip of her tongue. She tries to speak, but the words don’t come. Ben and his siblings silently watch as she drops her head and her shoulders sag. Tears pool in the corner of her eyes.

”Number Seven.” His voice is harsher, sharper. Caught, Vanya finally gives him a nod. “You will come with me to delete it this instance.” He doesn’t acknowledge the tears she softly sheds. “Number One. Number Two. Number Three. Number Four. Number Six. You are dismissed.” He steps away, waves Vanya forwards. She follows him on heavy feet, eyes downcast.

Their father leaves the room by walking back down their line and around Luther, forcing Vanya to complete a classic Hargreeves walk of shame. Vanya minutely tilts her head up and towards him as she walks past. Ben feels a bit of acid shoot up the back of his throat upon seeing Vanya’s betrayed and defeated expression. In that moment he wants nothing more than to apologize, to look her in the eyes and tell her he didn’t do it. He didn’t tell Dad.

But someone had.

* * *

 

_The day Fischer leaves, Diego wishes it were him. Allison bites back the urge to confront their father, to demand he answer why Fischer can leave to pursue his education, but she must remain here, confined to a study she no longer has any passion for. Klaus gives Fischer a lazy wave and thinks to himself that his brother’s a lucky jerk. None of them, Ben included, stops to consider that the future awaiting Fischer is anything less than perfect. After all, anything must be better than staying here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted a one-shot this past weekend, “There’s Dust in Our Lungs.” It’s a daemon-au for TUA. May write more for it if folks are interested.


	9. Smoke in the Attic

_”Do you love him?”_

_His voice is soft, hesistant. She pauses in her task to hear him; the white dishrag in her hand now an ombré of red. She knows that if they were to go upstairs to the infirmary, this entire process would pass much quicker. However, she can’t help but be selfish in this moment, knowingly extending her time with one of her kids, free from Sir Hargreeves’ sight. It seems times like these are occurring fewer and fewer each year. In a few months, the seven of them will be seven. ( _Some days, she worries if she blinks too long they'll grow in minutes.)_ Grace rises to her feet and takes the soiled cloth to the sink. She pulls open a drawer, takes out a handful of paper napkins._

_”Do I love who?” She asks as she bends back down._

_Ben shifts his gaze away from her. He mumbles his response. She waits for him to repeat it. “Dad.”_

_Dad. Father. Her husband. Sir Reginald Hargreeves. Him. Do you love him? Do I love him?_

_For Grace, it was never about love nor romance. When Sir Hargreeves approached her family years ago, his offer shone like a lighthouse; agreeing to marry him was a way out of her current situation and into a safe and financially secure future. As a teenager, she wanted nothing more, nothing less. He always spoke of it as a business arrangement. (She quickly learned to expect that of him regarding most aspects of his life.)_

_No, she can't say she loves him, nor does she believe she ever will or could. But, she is grateful. (Even perhaps beyond grateful.) Grateful for his visit those years ago, the unintentional rescue he provided her. She's grateful for her job, her title, for her children. Oh, her children. She may never love their father, but she will always love the seven of them._

_Gently, Grace dabs at Ben's raw knees and the palms of his hands. Most of the blood is already gone; what remains begins to dry and harden. She'll walk with him to a bathroom, and after they've run some water on the cuts, she'll apply antiseptic and bandages._

_"Mom?" Ben asks, unsure._

_Grace looks up, realizes the serious expression she must be wearing right then. She stops, attempts to relax her face. Healing and thinking tend to take her away from herself. She gives him a smile. "My apologies, Ben. You asked me a question." He nods, bites the side of his bottom lip. She doesn't want to lie, not when she doesn't have to, not when she can avoid it. She doesn't want to lie, especially not to her children, so she doesn't._

_"I love what your father gave me." She sees the question in Ben's eyes before he replies._

_"What did he give you?"_

_Grace smiles then, and it is the truest she's worn all day. A burst of warmth erupts in her chest; the feeling expands to fill every crevice. "He gave me you. You and your siblings."_

* * *

**February 2005**

Diego, for once, is right. Grudges, despite how easy they seem to come to him and everyone else in his family, aren't particularly something he wants to carry with him indefinitely. (His decision has nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with the fact he's now been on the receiving end of Vanya's silent treatment for three weeks.) All they seem to succeed in doing anymore is souring his mood. (He doesn't pay mind to how the conviction he once held close extinguished itself the moment Vanya looked to him, her silent accusation and betrayal palpable in her wide, watery eyes, her nearly trembling lip.)

The mansion's quieter today, as half of its occupants attend Diego's diving competition, Vanya included. Their father has yet to travel anywhere without her since January (an unfortunate part of her punishment.) So, without a moment to convince himself otherwise, Ben steps out from the comfortable confines of his bedroom, to seek out Klaus.

He starts on the second floor, walks up and down each hall, past each bedroom, bathroom, and closet. Ben highly doubts Klaus is downstairs, but there is still the small possibility he may be with Mom in the kitchen or laundry room on the lower level. However, Ben finds those rooms empty, too. He makes his way back to the first floor, back to the grand staircase, his steps less urgent, his determination fraying at the ends. As he reaches the landing, he realizes it isn't just Klaus he can't seem to find. Allison's nowhere to be found, either. Pogo, he knows, is off in the library. They passed one another not too long ago.

Ben turns towards the next set of stairs, takes these two at a time. The one place he has yet to look is the attic. Neither Klaus nor Allison particularly enjoy their individual trainings, so Ben wastes no time searching through the floors and rooms dedicated to his father's pursuits for each of them. Ben slows the closer he gets to the attic. Light streams out from the room and into the hall. The door stands half open, half shut.

He hears them before he sees them. They're by the window, blankets around their shoulders. Ben stops behind the door, suddenly unsure whether to announce his presence.

"Another?" Klaus asks.

Allison coughs. Ben assumes she responds nonverbally.

"Suit yourself," Klaus says. Ben hears the telltale sound of a lighter clicking. After a beat, Klaus releases a long exhale.

"I don't know how you smoke these everyday."

"That's because, Alli dear, I don't smoke everyday."

"Let me guess, you're one of those every other day nicotine fiends."

Klaus makes a popping sound with his lips before saying, "Bingo."

Allison groans then. "What am I going to do if Dad doesn't let me keep this role?"

"Thought you were waiting to hear back."

"I am, but the other girl had braces. _Braces_ , Klaus. She wasn't even competition."

"If you say so."

Ben hears as the lighter clicks again. Makes out the sound of Allison sighing.

"Don't judge," Allison warns. "Everyone at the theater smokes."

"I'm the last of us to judge anyone in this family," Klaus assures. He makes a suggestion on Allison's technique. The smell of cigarette smoke begins to grow stronger as it drifts into the hall. Klaus hums then. "You could report back to Dad." All of Ben's insides seem to simultaneously chill at those words. He sincerely hopes Klaus didn't just imply what Ben thinks he did.

"And tell him what? That you're rolling joints in the bathroom?"

"Maybe not that. Pogo caught me doing that months ago."

"And Dad didn't do anything?"

"Dad doesn't _care_. As long as I'm not high nor drunk in front of the press, Dad doesn't give a shit. You know," Klaus starts, "you never told me what Vanya was doing on Myspace." There. There it is. His brother's words are as good as a confession of Allison's guilt. Ben thinks he's going to be sick. _I should say something.  I should tell them I'm here. I should-_ He doesn't. He doesn't do anything. Instead, Ben stands there, frozen in his anger, his hurt, his shock, his morbid curiosity.

"She was talking to some guy across the country. His profile said he was in college." Was Allison talking about Fischer? Ben recalls briefly seeing random names on Vanya's computer screen, but he hadn't given them much thought as it was her messages with their brother that had caught his attention. If Vanya accessed the site with a pseudonym, then it only makes sense Fischer had, too. Had Allison stumbled across their brother's profile and not even recognized it for what it actually was? Would she have told their father if she had known?

"Juicy."

His sister harrumphs at that, followed closely by a short coughing fit.

"There, there."

"Thanks."

When Klaus speaks next, he does an exaggerated impression of their father. "Under my tutelage, Number Three, you will be an expert smoker in two days' time."

Ben leaves then, the sound of Klaus and Allison's laughter his cover. He doesn't recall walking away, back down the stairs, through the halls. He doesn't recall opening his bedroom door, shutting it. He doesn't recall whether he meant to leave his lights off or simply forgot to turn them on. He doesn't recall falling onto his mattress, shoes still tied upon his feet. Ben's not aware how much time passes as he lies there in the dark.

Mom finds him there, not awake, not asleep, not even truly _there_ , when she knocks upon his door for supper. He absently registers hearing his door open and close, her gentle voice calling out to him. He misses dinner that night. A distant part of him wonders whether Mom told everyone he was sick. Ben doubts they care.

He wonders when he'll stop caring, too.

* * *

_After the water, the antiseptic, the bandages, Ben hugs her. He wraps his arms around her shoulders before she moves to stand back up. Grace wraps her arms around him, returning the hug._

_"I love Dad, too," Ben whispers in her ear, a secret only for her. "Because Dad gave us you."_

_Later, much too late for her to correct herself, she realizes her mistake._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this AU, I hc Grace married Reginald when she was fifteen. Prior to 2017, marriage for minors as young as 14 was allowed in New York state with the consent of the minor's parent(s)/guardian(s) and/or the consent of a judge. I'm not sure presently whether this plot point will be mentioned again/more in later chapters, but I wanted to allude to it at least once.


End file.
